


A Silly Thing

by thechestofsilver



Series: Raffles Week 2018 [1]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Bunny is depressed, Gen, Raffles cheers him up, raffles week 2018, school days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:13:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechestofsilver/pseuds/thechestofsilver
Summary: Raffles cannot stand to see his little rabbit so sad, so he tries his best to cheer him up.





	A Silly Thing

**Author's Note:**

> For Raffles week day 4 - A Costume Piece

I am a little ashamed to say that I had not been paying much attention to Bunny that afternoon. In an attempt to be good students, Jones and I had been sitting by the fire with our history books open; the conversation had shortly turned into a lively discussion of last week’s game and the one to come, and naturally the hours passed without any of the Henrys and Edwards sticking in our minds. Bunny’s presence was rather taken for granted where he sat curled up in a worn armchair in the corner, apparently studying, and it was not until Jones left the room that I granted him with a proper look.

“How is it going there, Bunny?” I asked cheerfully, expecting the timid smile and faint blush with which he usually responded.

Instead I was met with the smallest shrug, and his eyes did not leave the notebook in which he was scribbling. I frowned.

“Bunny?” I tried again, a tad more pressing.

“What is it, Raffles?”

This time he lifted his gaze, but barely met mine. His voice sounded tired and his cheeks, usually flushed enough to bring out a fair pattern of freckles, looked pale.

“Whatever is the matter, Bunny?” I said, rising from the sofa. “Are you not well?”

He only looked down again with another shrug and continued his scribbling; which, as I reached his side, proved to be nothing but little sketches in pencil.

“Well Bunny,” I said jestingly, “you have been less productive than we have! And here I thought you to be the perfect student!”

To my horror, the response I received was not of laughter, but of an audible sniff followed by a quivering exhale. I quickly got down to a squatting position and took a proper look at his face; the boy was crying.

“Bunny!” I said. “I was only joking!”

He shook his head and angrily wiped the tears away.

“It’s not that, Raffles.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” he sniffled.

“Did something happen? Have Riley and the others been hard on you again?” I tried.

I placed a tentative hand on his shoulder as he shook his head again.

“Your family? Did something happen at home?”

Another negation. I felt completely at a loss.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t know. It’s silly,” he continued and met my eye with the determined look of someone who wish to conceal their embarrassment. “Do you need me for something tonight?”

“Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He sighed resignedly.

“Nothing is wrong – that’s the silly part.” He drew another line in the book. “I just feel hopeless… but I don’t know why.”

I regarded him in silence for some moments. I was so used to seeing the boy full of energy; quiet and insecure, surely, but with a brightness in his eye and a purpose in everything he took on. This miserable apathy was entirely new to me, and I found that I for once was at a loss for something to say. At last I opened my mouth to simply tell him to get some rest; but a sense of reluctance to let him out of my sight in this state made me change paths, and instead I said:

“I would like your help with some things tonight, if that’s alright. Would you come to my room after dinner?”

He quietly agreed, and it was with a heavy heart that I watched him leave the room. There had to be something I could do to bring back the light in his eyes.

\------------------------------------------

Two hours later there was a knock on my door. With a thrill I quickly gathered myself, turned my back to the door and uttered a sturdy “come in”.

“Raffles?”

With the most dramatic movement I could achieve, I turned around to greet Bunny. At the sight of me, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he repeated my name – this time with a great deal more force and wonder. I swiftly swept the heavy coat, usually seen on the stature of our notorious Headmaster, around me and put the pipe in my mouth with an overstated look of importance on my face. The fake moustache tickled my upper lip.

“’At ‘o you tink?” I asked before removing the pipe with a smile. “I have been working on a little act, and I hoped you could serve as my audience.”

Bunny only looked at me with eyes big as saucers.

“Is that really his?” he managed to ask.

“Of course it is,” I said, spinning around to show off the coat in all its checkered and washed-out glory. “Now, sit down. Let me know what you think.”

Tentatively, he took a seat on the bed.

“You’ll get in trouble.”

I waved the pipe dismissively.

“Nonsense. Now…”

And then I spent a good half hour making the best impressions I could manage of our proud and solemn Headmaster. He walked, he talked; he frowned and muttered and suck his pipe. With time the caricature grew more outrageous – I made him trip over his own feet, cry over spilled tobacco, burst into song and dance.  The whole thing was an improvisation, of course – the idea had only struck me on my way back to my room, when I happened to pass by the office I knew to be empty, and found the door unlocked. I cannot claim it to be my best acting work, and I would never try the performance again; but the act worked in the way I wanted it to, and by the end of it, Bunny was shivering with laughter and wiping tears off his cheeks for an entirely different reason than before. At last I took a bow and received an enthusiastic applaud for my work; and when I looked up, I was met with that bright glimpse in the eyes I had grown so fond of.


End file.
